Technicalities
by Darkheart Du Lac
Summary: Guardianship fic, post Snakehead. When Jack returns to America, Alex finds himself placed with a "temporary guardian" who is anything but friendly. Even worse – he's entirely in the hands of MI6, who have no intention of letting go of their best kept secret now that he has no-one left to turn to. And something has definitely shifted within K Unit in the time he'd been away.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay… I'm succumbing to the urge to write cliché. Because I needed a new guardianship fic, and I've run out of ones to read! Hopefully it will be enjoyable to read though, so please leave your thoughts in a review :)

(Also, I haven't given up on Leap of Faith - and never will! - but I needed to write something a little different and get some instant feedback. Also LOF is going in a veeeeery serious direction now *trembles ominously*)

DISCLAIMER: I did not receive Alex Rider for Christmas. Santa has disappointed me yet again.

* * *

**Technicalities**

**Chapter 1**

* * *

In the end, Alex couldn't blame Jack for leaving when she did. She had broken the news on a Friday night, just after he'd collapsed down at the kitchen table, shrugging his heavy school bag off his shoulder with great relief. It was the first full week of school he'd completed in months, and he was exhausted.

He'd known something was wrong in an instant. Usually, by now, Jack had started pulling food and spices from the cupboards, throwing them together in a pan in her usual brusque fashion, and laughing as she did. But the surfaces were clean, and the house felt cold.

If that hadn't given it away, the nerves that were practically vibrating off of her had.

"Alex…" Jack fidgeted with her hands, hovering in the doorway. She was tilting forward slightly, as if she wanted to approach him but a barrier was stopping her. "…We need to talk."

Alex's heart grew heavy. He dropped his head to his hands, smearing his hair out of his eyes. This was a long time coming, but he knew it was still going to hurt.

"Sit down," he said tiredly, pulling out the chair beside him.

Jack looked startled at being delivered her own line.

"It's okay," Alex said numbly. "I know."

"Know?" Jack echoed.

He went to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Alex looked down at the table instead.

"Alex… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, for doing this now, after – well, after everything, but I… I need to go, Alex. I need to leave. My dad… his health just keeps getting worse, and I need to see him – I can't _do_ this anymore!" What had clearly been building inside Jack for long time burst out, and she threw her arms out in exasperation. "I - I can't!I can't just carry on like this, being here in this empty house, not knowing whether you're dead or alive out there…"

Alex sighed again. Her face was red with emotion and wet with tears.

"It's okay," he'd had to say. "I understand. It's okay, Jack. It's going to be okay."

Overall, the conversation went mostly how he expected it to go. Stilted, awkward, and painful. Jack breaking down on him was both terrifying and gut-wrenching, and, although he'd expected it to happen sooner or later, Alex hadn't quite been able to forgive her. It was childish, he knew, but Jack was his limit. Whatever happened, however many people he saved or killed, she had been the one constant in his life. His brain would not process her apologies.

Now, two days later, a physical lump of dread had settled in his throat. It grew larger as he approached the Royal and General Bank. They'd obviously known he was coming – there had been two agents watching him see Jack off at the airport yesterday, for God's sake – but he hadn't been approached. And when he'd arrived back at the big, empty house, they hadn't called him.

_They want you to come to them_, a voice whispered. _They want you to need them._

And it was right: he _did_ need them. He was here of his own volition, because he had no-one left to turn to.

Only MI6.

Alex wanted to back out, to get as far away from that bank as possible, but he genuinely had nobody he could go to. Once upon a time he may have called the Pleasures, but over the last few months Alex had learnt just how dangerous it was to drag ordinary people into his world of lies and deception. Even someone on the fringes, like Edward Pleasure, wasn't safe.

All of his other options were void, too. Smithers was under MI6's control. Ben Daniels was still in hospital, having been shot (because of Alex) in Australia - but even if he had made a quicker recovery, there was no reason to presume that the guy would take Alex in. They'd known each other for, what, five minutes? And Alex knew personally that the person you are in the field can be completely different to the genuine article.

No: his only option was to return to spying, and somehow try to stay one step ahead of Blunt and Jones. Head bowed in resignation, Alex pushed open the door of the bank and stepped inside.

* * *

_2 hours later_

"No way."

Mrs Jones pursed her lips and smiled as amiably as she could. They'd been at this for twenty minutes now, and she was no closer to her goal.

"Corporal Chase—"

"Wolf," the man corrected shortly.

Mrs Jones hesitated. "…Wolf. If you'll just consider the arrangement I've suggested—"

"No!" the man interrupted again. "No. I'm not doing it. Why should I have to spend my leave babysitting some agent's son?"

If Mrs Jones had not been trained to internalise her emotions, she would have snorted at that. Ironically, it was actually true. John Rider had been an _exceptional_ agent. But she couldn't help picturing how Wolf would react if she told him that Alex Rider - or "Cub", as he referred to him - was twice the agent his father had ever been.

And now he was finally, fully theirs. When Crawley had slunk into Blunts office last week with the news that the American was finally leaving, Mrs Jones had never seen Blunt look so triumphant. Jack Starbright had booked a one-way flight to Washington. For a single passenger. And although, originally, she'd had her reservations about using Alex, Mrs Jones couldn't deny that she was pleased too. Alex couldn't carry on the way he was going; shooting off on missions every other month and pretending to be an ordinary schoolboy for the rest of the time. Maybe now he would finally realise his potential, if he accepted his fate...

Mrs Jones leaned back in her chair, and changed her tactics. If persuasion wasn't an option, that still left blackmail.

"Very well, Wolf. If that's your final word, I suppose I'll have to put in a suggestion to the Sergeant at Brecon Beacons. I'll have him extend your leave."

The man practically choked. "_What?_"

"Well, given that one of your teammates has recently suffered a serious injury – and we can't forget, of course, the current condition of your former teammate, Daniels – I would deem it suitable to prevent you from returning to service for another... oh... four months, perhaps?"

Wolf visibly fumed. Mrs Jones had to suppress her smile. Angering Wolf was not an amusing pastime for most sane people, but she knew that he was no threat to her. They'd been in this situation before. Wolf always gave in eventually.

"On the other hand," she said slowly, "if you agree to act as Alex's guardian, K Unit could be placed on indefinite leave, with a high possibility of returning to service within the next eight weeks."

Wolf glanced at her sharply. "How? You want me to leave the brat alone, when we go back to Brecon?"

Mrs Jones fiddled with a pen on her desk, realising that she'd backed herself into a corner.

"Alex... is not an agent's son," she admitted at length.

Wolf's eyes narrowed. "Then who is he?"

"He's your charge," Jones said firmly. "At least, if you want to return to training, he is."

Wolf glowered. "Fine. Where do I pick the kid up?"

"He'll arrive at your house," Mrs Jones replied immediately, already skimming through the papers on her desk for the guardianship documents.

Wolf was still glaring, but he signed on the dotted line. The pen moved across the page with short, jerky movements.

"Still got no idea why you think _I_ should be the kid's guardian," Wolf muttered as he got up to leave.

Mrs Jones felt a twinge of guilt then. A slight tug in her chest.

"Because," she said honestly, "there's nobody else that he trusts."

Wolf looked at her with incredulity.

* * *

Oak Lane was a small, forgettable street squashed onto the edge of Chelsea. Alex had walked past it one hundred times on his way to school, and could have passed it one hundred more, without ever realising that an agent lived there. Then again, how many people would have suspected that _his _house was home to an MI6 spy?

Depressingly, he had only needed a small duffel bag in the end, after he'd packed all of his clothes and emptied the bathroom's cabinet for good measure. Alex had considered doing something with the furniture - putting plastic sheets or something over it, like they did in movies - but in the end, he couldn't be bothered. MI6 could deal with it. He just hoped they didn't put the place on the market - his situation was pretty dire, but at least he still had the money his uncle had left him, right?

When he pulled the door shut behind him, the _click_ seemed to echo hollowly. Somehow, the whole situation felt surreal. Nine months ago, he'd been an ordinary fourteen-year-old with a nice set of friends, a bright future, and an uncle who worked at a bank.

Still, moping would get him nowhere. Alex set off down the street in the direction of the agent's house, shaking off the angst as he did. The only way to survive as a real agent, he figured, was to constantly look to the future. Starting with this new "guardian" of his. MI6 had trusted him to walk five streets without any backup, and sure enough, he found the flat without any difficulty. Alex trudged up the stairs to the first floor, ignoring the scrutinising stare from the woman in the flat below, and knocked twice on the door.

There was a crash and a curse from inside. Alex frowned. That didn't sound very spy-like...

The door was flung open, and Alex nearly kicked himself for being so stupid. Of _course_ it couldn't be a regular MI6 agent. When was his life _ever_ that straightforward?

"Hi, Wolf," he greeted, not even half-heartedly.

The SAS soldier nodded tersely, looking him up and down. "Cub."

There was an awkward silence. Alex examined Wolf curiously. It had, after all, been nearly a year since they'd last met. He looked a little tanned, but there were purple circles under his eyes. His face was set, stony with distrust.

The Alex who'd been sent to Brecon Beacons in March would have shrunk under Wolf's glare. But he was used to this game by now. It took a lot more than Wolf to scare him. He peered past Wolf and into the flat. Were those removal boxes in the hallway?

"I guess you'd better come in," Wolf said eventually, unsticking himself from the doorframe and disappearing into the flat.

Alex followed cautiously. It was dark inside. He squinted up and saw why - the ceiling light was an empty plastic shell with no bulb. And yet Wolf didn't strike him as the type to leave unpacked boxes lying around for months after moving in...

"I moved in last week," Wolf clarified, reading his mind. "Sorry about the mess." He didn't sound sorry at all.

Wolf led him down the corridor, to the furthest possible room in the flat. Already, Alex's mind was ticking, picking out emergency exits and drawing escape routes. Wolf pushed open the door in a cloud of dust, and stepped aside for Alex to enter. His new bedroom was bigger than he'd expected, actually, with a desk along one wall and quite a large bed beside the window. More than Alex needed.

He dumped his bag down on the floor and turned to Wolf, intending to ask where the bathroom was, but the man was already gone. Suddenly, a swamping sense of isolation washed over Alex.

_Stop,_ he told himself firmly. _Don't let yourself get sucked into that. You can't show any weaknesses anymore, remember?_

As he marched over to inspect the wardrobe space, Alex reasoned with himself. It wasn't _that_ bad. This was probably all temporary, anyway. Didn't Wolf have missions of his own to go on?

_Yeah_, said a snide voice in his head. _And then you'll be completely alone here__._

Alex sat down on the bed and sighed. Home sweet home.

* * *

Reviewers have my eternal love 3

**Ally xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello, again! Firstly, I'm SO grateful for the response to the first chapter. Publishing new stuff is nerve-wracking, so getting positive reviews is a huge relief.

I think this story is (hopefully) going to be a mash of plot stuff and character building guardianship stuff. Idk. Let me know what you think.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Alex woke at the crack of dawn the next day. He felt, as one generally does who's had four hours sleep, like hell. But he knew there was no chance of getting back to sleep now - and with Wolf asleep, why not take the opportunity to explore the place?

As it turned out, the flat was pretty depressing. Alex didn't care much for interior decor, but to have ugly white walls in every single room - that was just _too_ sparse. It reminded him creepily of a prison cell. He discovered that the fridge in the kitchen-lounge area had electricity, but was mostly empty. Takeaway packets overflowed from the bin. Everything that had the potential to make the flat into a home was still in bubble wrap. Thank God there was wifi, at least.

He'd been a little apprehensive as to what the state of Wolf's bathroom would be, but it was actually in a decent condition. Alex had spent a quarter of an hour using up his hot water before creeping into the kitchen to fix himself a strong coffee. He was trying to focus on some school notes when Wolf finally emerged, ambling into the kitchen and yawning into his hand. He froze at the sight of Alex.

Yep: he'd completely forgotten that his "ward" existed. Overnight.

They were off to a great start.

Alex pretended that he hadn't noticed it, raising his mug as a greeting.

"Want some?"

Wolf looked suspicious for a moment, before apparently deciding that Alex was only, indeed, being friendly.

"I can make it myself," he muttered, shuffling over to pour himself some coffee. "It's my flat." A pause. "What are you doing?"

"Studying."

"Cub-" Wolf turned around, leaning against the counter. "-it's six AM."

_Congratulations, Wolf, you can tell the time._

Alex pushed his hair back with his hand. "I know. I'm... behind at school."

Wolf was silent for a moment, then took a sip of the coffee and glanced at Alex's notes. "What, so behind you have to get up at five thirty?"

Oh God, were they really having this conversation? This was so - _domestic_. Between two other people it might have worked - people who didn't work for government agencies, maybe - but between Alex and Wolf? It was awfully stilted.

"I - couldn't sleep," Alex admitted. A flicker of understanding crossed Wolf's face. Alex couldn't suppress his curiosity. "What about you? Why the early start?"

Wolf's face hardened. "No reason. Look, Cub, I have places to be. You can get to school okay?"

Alex nodded, taking the hint. Besides, it wasn't like he needed an answer.

He knew the look of someone who'd been tossing and turning all night. Now, the curious question: why was Wolf having trouble sleeping? Nightmares, maybe? The soldier was guarding _something_, that much was obvious.

Alex almost tripped over his first clue on the way out of the flat. He left early, bored from studying and wanting to get to Brooklands on time. It was only his second week back, after all. Just as he was about to leave, still trying to squeeze textbooks into a bag that was definitely not designed to hold this many, a brown envelope was shoved through the letterbox.

Alex paused. The gloved hand that had delivered it was snatched back quickly, and the sound rapid footsteps followed. His first thought was to throw open the door and catch them in the act, but some instinct told him that they would already be gone. Besides, he was unarmed and unprepared. What would he do if he was attacked, throw his history homework at them?

Instead, he crouched down, picking up the envelope and turning it envelope over in his hands. An internal debate ensued. On one hand, he had a unique opportunity here. Whoever had delivered had waited for Wolf to leave to, which meant they probably didn't know about Alex. That gave him an advantage. On the other, though, he had no idea how Wolf might react to him reading the guy's mail. All he knew really was that the guy was notoriously defensive and short-tempered - so, yeah, it probably wouldn't be a positive reaction.

Of course, it was entirely likely that it was Wolf's subscription to "Gun Owners' Weekly" or something. It was probably entirely mundane... but when had Alex ever been able to resist curiosity?

He opened the envelope and tipped out the contents - two A4 sheets; one printed with a string of letters and numbers that was meaningless to Alex, and another completely blank. He frowned, tipping it upside down, but there was nothing else. Just this.

_39 GIO 1636 RFC_

Alex stared at the figures for a minute or so, running through all the basic strings of code that he knew. "RFC" sounded like a football club, but that was probably due to his football-wired brain more than anything. "1636" could either be a year, or maybe or military time. The other digits were meaningless.

Shaking his head, he slipped the paper back into the envelope, pausing for a moment to key them into a memo on his phone. Maybe Google would have some answers, but for now, he needed to get to school. It was only when he stood up that he saw it: a flash of light, a reflection from something shiny on the floor. Alex stopped, bag hitched halfway onto his shoulder, eyes scanning the wiry black carpet...

There. It was _tiny_. He knelt and plucked the small round object from the carpet hairs.

Huh. The mystery object was a pin. White, perfectly circular and unmarked. There was no logo...

...which meant Wolf would know who had sent it. And the sender knew that he would know. A sudden chill ran through Alex, as the iconic image of a scorpion flashed across his mind. Could Wolf be in danger from somebody?

He stood up quickly, pocketing the pin and stepping over the rest of the mail. This wasn't his mission, he reminded himself. His mission was to survive whatever hell MI6 was sure to send his way in the near future. Wolf could take care of himself.

* * *

Outside, the air was stiff and cold. Alex pulled his jacket around himself as he crossed the road, cutting through the park opposite Wolf's flat that Brooklands sometimes used for P.E. lessons. His new residence had halved the distance between him and the school. He reached the gates in record time, even without his bike. Alex was loitering around the entrance (avoiding the eye of a suspicious maths teacher, who was giving him looks as if he had heroin smuggled under his coat) when a short, black-haired teenager loped into the schoolyard. He shot Alex a broad grin.

Instantly, Alex felt a weight lift from his shoulders. There was still one person who wanted him around, at least.

"You're still here, then," Tom observed, clapping him on the back.

"No, I'm in Timbuktu."

"Shut up, you twat."

Alex grinned. Then Tom looked at him curiously, closely, and Alex felt himself shift a little.

"You okay, Alex?"

"Fine," he answered shortly. He had already decided that he wasn't having the Jack conversation. Not yet.

Luckily, before Tom could start psychoanalysing him, the bell rang, and they joined the flow of students who were reluctantly filtering inside.

Alex didn't see Tom again until midday, by which point it became obvious that his friend wasn't the only one who was surprised to see him in school. His form teacher had almost skipped over his name in the morning register, and the girl who sat next to him in Biology had been offering his seat to her friend when he'd walked through the door.

And the lessons... they were getting a little easier, he thought. But they were still tough. Some subjects seemed so juvenile to him now that he could have fallen asleep - like History with Politics. Alex could have spoken for hours about the political relations of Europe, America and Asia, but instead he was forced to recite facts about 19th century parliaments. He knew which information he was more likely to need in his line of work.

But he wasn't giving in. MI6 was not taking away his damn education, not if he had anything to do with it.

Overall, Alex thought he was doing pretty well at holding it all together.

It was in P.E. that things started to unravel.

Tom greeted him cheerfully when he walked into the changing rooms, but Alex didn't miss the way that the other boys' conversations abruptly stopped. He kept his head down when he passed them, grateful that Tom had chosen a corner spot to dump their bags and clothes. Still, he couldn't help but look twice when he spied one boy in particular on the other side of the room.

When they'd gradually started to talk again, Alex turned to Tom.

"James?" he said in a disheartened voice, indicating his head towards his classmate and (he'd thought) friend. "Seriously?"

Tom shrugged awkwardly. "You've been away a long time, Alex."

Alex sighed. Now that he thought about it, James Hale hadn't spoken to him since he'd been back. Tom had been delighted, and a few others had made an effort to re-immerse him in the first week, but James had steered decidedly clear of him. Alex glanced over at the group he was with - Jordan, Knight, Lucas. They were... notorious. He thought it was Knight who had started the rumours about gangs and drug running.

"We didn't know if you were coming back, mate," Tom said quietly. "And with all the rumours..."

"You stayed," Alex pointed out.

"Yeah, well. I _know_, don't I?"

"You still didn't have to-"

"Don't be thick, Alex. 'Course I did."

For the first time in a long time, Alex's face broke into a real smile, even if it was a weary one.

"Thanks."

"No problem," Tom said breezily, pulling up his navy sports socks. "You done yet?"

"Almost."

Alex finished tying his shoes and stood, turning to face the wall as he unbuttoned his shirt. Tom looked away loyally, but was anything but discreet about it. Alex could feel eyes on him from the corner of the wall as he stripped the shirt from his shoulders, shoved it in his bag, and pulled on his P.E. shirt as quickly as possible.

But of course they'd seen.

"Where did you get those scars?"

Alex tensed, but shrugged casually when turned around to face them.

"I had a few accidents."

Knight, standing next to James, scoffed. "Yeah. I bet you did."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Alex said defensively. He narrowed his eyes, refusing to be ridiculed by a fifteen-year-old. He had had a knife fight in _space_, for God's sake!

The other boy said nothing, though, and neither did his friends. Their minds were easy for Alex to read. They were all talk. Nobody wanted to get into a fight with Alex Rider.

"Come on, Tom, let's go."

Stepping out of the changing rooms, he sucked in a breath of cold air, only half-listening to their P.E. coach as she chastised them for being late and sent them on a run through the park. Honestly, hiding the scars had been what he was dreading the most about returning to Brooklands. Alex could shake off the rumours with a confident lie, but the physical scars were another story. Falling down that waterfall in Australia hadn't been pleasant; the more minor scratches had healed and faded, but the deeper cuts had formed criss-crossing red marks across his shoulders and torso that were impossible to miss. And then there was the bullet wound, which was only a few months old, even if it felt a thousand years ago now.

Alex was grateful for Tom's chatter as they started running at a steady pace, following the narrow path that wound through the park. He absorbed the latest gossip about Mr Forest and Miss Gates, who were _clearly_ dating - or screwing in lunch break at the least, Tom reported with gagging sounds. There were actually some interesting rumours shooting around the school. A Year 11 had been expelled for stealing stationery and then selling it to Year 7's, which had left one of the maths teacher looking rather stupid after he'd bought back his own stapler. Alex found that he didn't even mind the rumours about him so much. Some of them were actually funny. Apparently, one girl was convinced that he was the estranged son of a pop star couple and was skiving off school to stalk their tour bus around Europe.

It was after their third lap, when they were resting for a moment on a bench, that Alex spotted a familiar face in the shadows of the park.

Immediately, the wild and probably fake story that Tom was recounting was muted. Alex made an effort not to turn his head, but followed the figure in the corner of his eye, only looking away when their teacher caught up with them and told them to get back to running.

"You go ahead," he said to Tom. "I just need to tie my lace..."

When the other boy had shrugged and run off, the figure sauntered out of the trees and approached him. Alex stiffened, looking up cautiously from the shoelace he was pretending to tie. A grin was plastered across the man's face.

"Cub! Fancy seeing you here."

"Hello, Eagle. I guess you're visiting Wolf?"

Eagle frowned. "How do you...?"

"I'm staying with him."

"Really? How long for?"

"A while," Alex replied, surveying Eagle curiously. The SAS soldier was slouching, hands in pockets. He looked surprised to see him, like Wolf had. He was a little tanned, like Wolf was too. Alex wondered about that. Had they been deployed together somewhere? He didn't even know if SAS units stayed together after training, but if Eagle was visiting Wolf...

"Good luck with that, kid. Yeesh. What the hell did you do to land _Wolf_ as a guardian?"

Alex laughed, surprising himself. The grin was still fading on his face as he shook his head ruefully. "Can't tell you. Classified."

Eagle's grin faultered a little. "And then you'd have to kill me, I suppose?"

"You guessed it."

Eagle's laugh was loud and confident, but Alex noticed the slight awkwardness in his gait. A silence fell between them, and as it stretched on Alex began to wonder exactly why Eagle was here.

"Alex Rider! _Who_ are you _talking to?!_"

Alex's head snapped around to see his P.E. teacher storming towards him, hair bursting furiously out of its bun. He suddenly realised how this looked.

"Go!" he hissed to Eagle, who took the hint and disappeared.

"And who was that?" his teacher asked sharply.

"Nobody, Miss..."

Her eyebrows shot up. "So you were talking to a _stranger_? Alex, do you have _any_ sense on-"

"I mean, it was my uncle!" he covered hurriedly. "Not the - uh - the dead one. My other uncle. My mum's brother. I haven't seen him in years, you see, he lives up north and he's just come down for-"

"Alright!" she held up a hand, cutting him off and sighing stressfully. "Just... just carry on with your laps, Alex."

He took the escape, setting out at a run to catch up Tom. He scanned the trees surrounding the park, but he didn't see Eagle again. He did, unfortunately, see Knight and his crew. They were lounging across the grass, sipping something out of a bottle that definitely wasn't soda.

"Hey, Rider! That your dealer?"

Alex ignored them.

"Nah, Jord, you've got it all wrong. That one was his _boyfriend_..."

It felt like he had been running for hours by the time the teacher blew her whistle and the boys trudged back to the school. He ignored the taunts of the other boys in the changing rooms. They were pathetic, anyway. Alex threw on his clothes and stuffed his kit in his bag as quickly as possible, only stopping to mutter a quick goodbye to Tom. It was still almost dark by the time he reached Wolf's flat.

As he climbed the steps to the front door, voices drifted down to Alex. Fast, overlapping voices. Alex was tired out of his mind - it had been a long day - but he knew an argument when he heard one. It was a shame the sounds were too muffled by the glass to hear what was being said.

Alex didn't have a key yet, so knocked on the door. Wolf barely glanced at him, flinging the door open and then retreating back into the living room. Alex had intended to go straight to his room, but the living room door was ajar, and something inside caught his eye.

Or rather, someone.

"Who was that?"

Alex knew that voice. He pushed the door fully open to reveal Snake, half-slouching on the sofa as he flicked through the TV guide. The soldier looked up at the creak of the door, and did a double-take when he saw Alex.

Alex almost did the same. If Wolf had looked a little rough around the edges, it was nothing compared to Snake. His face was pale and creased with stress, making the dark shadows beneath his eyes stand out horribly.

"Cub? Christ, kid, is that really you?"

"Yeah-"

"Did I say you could come in here?"

Wolf barged forwards, planting himself in front of Alex and blocking Snake from view.

"I was just-"

"Get out."

Alex stared at Wolf, mentally searching for some reason to stay in the room. First Eagle, now Snake? Something was going on. Why had they been arguing?

_The pin._

He remembered it just as his thumb brushed over it in his pocket. The sharp edge nicked his skin. He'd wanted to do some research at school, but he'd completely forgotten about it until now. Should he tell Wolf...?

"I said - _get out!_"

Wordlessly, Alex spun on his heel and left the room. The door of his bedroom banged loudly as he kicked it shut.

Wolf was going to be a dick? Fine. Two could play at that game.

* * *

Please review :)

**Ally xoxo**


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